


no labels to put on this thing we keep

by cnomad



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble, Multi, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 13:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnomad/pseuds/cnomad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without Trevor and Jenny in his life, there was really nobody else. He was alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no labels to put on this thing we keep

**Author's Note:**

> This scene was extrapolated from a larger Harvey x Mike AU that was never finished, where Harvey was the law professor proctoring the LSAT that Mike was almost caught cheating during in the pilot. That fic was abandoned to the depths of my files, but I always had a fondness for this scene so after getting a random Suits ask on tumblr, I decided to share it. 
> 
> Title comes from the Miike Snow song "Genghis Khan".

“You don’t understand, man. I have _got_ to stop doing shit like this.” 

Trevor’s laugh carried across the room from where he was spread out, lying on the floor holding the newest lit bud in his hand. On the coffee table between them was day old take out and an array of empty beer bottles. Heineken, Samuel Adams, Boston Lager, and some shitty hipster PBR…whatever Trevor had left over in his fridge from the last party he’d thrown, they’d drunk it over the course of the past twenty-four hours. He took a drag of the joint before holding it out for Mike to take. 

“And do what instead? C’mon – we’re living the life.”

Mike took the joint but didn’t smoke it, staring down at his insteads instead as he shook his head resolutley.

He said, “No, _you_ are. _You’re_ the one with the actual software clients. Me, I’m working three crappy part-time jobs and then I’m taking tests or writing papers for lazy ass students on the side – only I always end up getting screwed out of my money because they keep refusing to pay my complete free when I don’t give them the perfect score.” 

He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping as he knocked his head back against the arm of the couch. The joint found it’s way to his lips almost mechanically as he listened to Trevor’s response.

“Like I said, man – you could come work for me. I know last time didn’t exactly pan out for you and all, but—” 

Mike let out a loud snort. “Didn’t exactly _pan out_ for me, Trevor? I guess that’s one way of describing running from the cops through the Chilton while carrying a briefcase full of weed.” 

Going to take another drag he found that the spliff had died and he needed to relight it. 

There was a heavy silence for a few moments. That job wasn’t exactly one they often spoke about – Trevor had been held up at gunpoint and was unable to warn Mike about the setup, and Mike had spent three days holed up at some former one-night-stand’s apartment with the bullshit lie of his apartment being fumigated. Their friendship had been on the rocky side for the two months after that – but Jenny had fixed things between them. Like she always did. It didn’t hurt that Trevor had then offered to help pay for part of Gran’s medical bills. Money could go a far way – even further than pride. 

Besides, without Trevor and Jenny in his life, there was really nobody else. He was alone.

Mike held out the joint for Trevor to take, a silent communication that all was well between them. He didn’t turn his head to look at the other man, but when he felt Trevor’s fingers brush his, he felt himself relax. Mike couldn’t bare a world where he and Trevor weren’t friends.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Trevor mocked. “I’ve always wanted to be a three way part-time waiter, bartender, and retail cashier.” Mike laughed, the weed finally kicking in.

“Really!” Trevor joked, leaning up on his elbows, grinning at Mike. “I’ve always wanted to spend my days helping housewives pick out their home decor before serving mediocre food to tourists and then making drinks for Manhattan’s finest and brightest all night. I’m jealous.”

Mike kept laughing even as he tried to stop Trevor, “No man, shut up, I should be grateful! Honest – I don’t know how Jenny got me that bartending gig at that place. I get paid better in tips there than my other two jobs combined. You should see the fucking wads of cash these guys carry around with them.”

He paused suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning his full attention towards Trevor. Mike’s eyes were wide with mock awe, “With money clips, Trev. Actual, honest to God, money clips. I didn’t even _know_ people still used those things.”

“Well, how else are you supposed to see how much dough they have?”

The conversation veered away from Mike’s existential life crisis as the weed continued to sink in. It wasn’t long before they were scarfing down the take out and ordering another pizza. A couple of hours later, and the two were vegged out on the couch watching Tim Burton’s _Batman_ – one of their favorite movies to watch while stoned. 

That’s what they were doing when they heard the key in the lock. It was obviously Jenny – and while she didn’t know the extent of Trevor’s drug dealing, she knew that he and Mike liked to smoke up every now and then. The scene in front of her as she walked into the apartment was one she’d grown accustomed to over the years of dating Trevor. 

“Hey babe!” Trevor called out from his slumped position on the couch. Mike balanced the greeting quite nicely with a weak wave in her direction as he continued to watch the Penguin moving around his sewer home.

In his peripheral, he could see Jenny roll her eyes.

“Greetings boys. Glad to see you haven’t moved since I left last night,” despite her words there was a touch of fondness to her voice as she stepped over the food wrappers to press a kiss to Mike’s forehead and Trevor’s lips. He battered her away as her hair blocked his view of the movie. 

“That’s not true,” Mike said indignantly. “For a while we were laying on the floor. And Trevor had to go to the door to get the pizza.”

“Yes, Mike,” Jenny teased, a lilting loveliness to her tone as she moved to the kitchen to put away some groceries she had bought. “I’m sure that definitely meets the Surgeon General’s recommendations for diet and exercise. ‘Eat junk food, smoke pot, and change your seat at least three times a day.’ Good for you!”

Rather than respond to Jenny, he held his hand up to Trevor and got a high five for his efforts.

When she returned to the living room, she climbed over the back of the couch and settled between the two of them. With her head resting comfortably against Trevor’s shoulder, she slid her legs across Mike’s lap. It was a common occurrence. Without even thinking about it, Trevor began to run his fingers gently through her silky hair while Mike let the tips of his fingers glide up and down her exposed calves. 

After a few minutes, Trevor stopped playing with her hair and stretched his arm out across the back of the couch, until his hand was just brushing the back of Mike’s neck.

They stayed like that for another two hours before Mike untangled himself from their limbs; an apology written across his features as he dropped a kiss on Jenny’s cheek and fist bumped Trevor on his way out.

It was a short walk home to his empty apartment and even emptier bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me at [my tumblr](http://cinematicnomad.tumblr.com/) where I occasionally post drabbles and other fangirlish things.


End file.
